No. Not for want of thinking about it, though, but she didn’t need to know that, he told himself with another twinge of guilt.
‘I promised,’ he reminded her, and thought if he wasn’t going to break his promise he’d better get himself out of there sharpish before he gave in to the temptation to lean forward, wrap his hand around the back of her neck and ease her towards him until their mouths just touched…
‘I should go,’ he said, wondering if it was his imagination or if his voice was really that gruff.
She didn’t try and stop him, just smiled and showed him to the door. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said cheerfully, and he nodded and took the necessary two steps out into the corridor outside.
‘See you in the morning,’ he echoed, and walked away from her calm, undemanding presence with a reluctant heart.
So. He was single.
So what? There was a world of difference between single and available, and she didn’t need any reminding of that. She was single, but she certainly wasn’t available, at least not as far as Hugh was concerned, and she didn’t think he was available either.
Not if the bleak look in his eyes when he’d talked about losing Jo was anything to go by. If ever there was a man who wasn’t over his late wife, he’d been sitting in her flat that evening.
Besides, even if he was available, she wasn’t interested in him. She’d got her agenda all mapped out. OK, the professor had put a hiccup in it, but she’d ended up with a better job as a result, a job she would far rather have had, so she supposed in a way she should be grateful to him.
Career-wise, it had been a positive move, but personally? No. She didn’t need to get involved with her boss, the father of two difficult and complicated teenagers who clearly needed a mother figure, a figure she was not in any way suited to being—no way!
No. Hugh Douglas was not on her agenda.
Ever.
Wednesday kicked off early with a ward round before the theatre list.
Eve handed Hugh notes, kept tabs on his stethoscope and studied him—and not just because he was a pleasure to look at. Watching him work was an education and a joy. He was so approachable, so easygoing and gentle and yet confident with his patients. He made them feel safe, she realised, and that was probably the most important attribute an obs and gynae surgeon could have, after the obvious requirement of technical skill.
People were scared. Women with gynae or obstetric problems were very scared, often, not just for themselves but for their potential children or the impact surgery could have on their relationships.
And they were shy. At the end of the day, this was all about their reproductive apparatus—about sex, and that was something intensely private and personal. Most people had great difficulty opening up and talking about things that bothered them in that area, but Hugh made it easy, using words they could understand without talking down to them or patronising them.
And he was gentle. Terribly gentle, and kind, and even though they were on a tight time scale, he never made his patients feel they were holding him up.
Eve was impressed.
And, being Eve, she said so.
He laughed a little self-consciously. ‘I do my best. It doesn’t always work. And talking of impressed, you must have hit all the right buttons with Jeannie and Paul. They’ve called the baby Eve.’
She felt her skin glow with delight. ‘Really? Oh, how amazing. Bless them. That’s never happened to me before!’
He shook his head. ‘It’s a good job you’ve got a nice name, because it’s bound to happen again.’ He checked his watch, frowning at it. ‘Right, we’d better go and get started. The list’s grown already, and we’ve only been on take ten minutes!’
She’d already watched him operate, last Thursday when he’d done Jeannie’s section, and yesterday doing his day case list, but this time was different. These were gynae patients, women with a host of different problems, and some of them were very tricky.
Yesterday had been easy by comparison, mostly sterilisations, and he’d let her do those while he’d watched and assisted.
Now Hugh let her close after a hysterectomy for a woman with fibroids who’d been having blood transfusions since she’d been admitted on Monday, and as she tied off the last suture, he nodded and stripped off his gloves.
‘Excellent. Next up is a prolapse repair—a bladder and urethral repair following a breech delivery two years ago. She’s got stress incontinence and her urethra’s bulging down into her vagina, causing pain on intercourse. We need to lift it and secure her bladder to straighten the urethra. Ever done this before?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’ve assisted, but I’d rather see how you do it before I attempt it. I’d rather do it your way than someone else’s, and I don’t want to mess it up for her.’
He nodded agreement. ‘Fine. Suits me. You can do the next one.’
And so it continued, taking turns so she did what she felt confident with, assisted when she didn’t or if he wanted to show her a specific technique, and by the end of the morning her head was reeling but she was ecstatic. She was learning so much from him, and although it would be a long time before she felt confident she could do things his way and could take a list herself, she was happy to work under his supervision and with him assisting, especially if it wasn’t too complex a case.
And the things they were doing would make so much difference to women’s lives, making better the things that women never complained about but merely suffered with in silence, often for years. No. Gynae was interesting—every bit as interesting as obstetrics, she realised, and hugely satisfying, much more than she’d really expected.
As their last patient was wheeled out to Recovery, he stripped off his gloves, dumped the gown in the bin and grinned at her. ‘Excellent. Between you and Oliver maybe I’ll get a holiday this year after all!’
Eve laughed with a mixture of relief and concern. ‘Don’t go planning your escape too soon,’ she cautioned, but he just chuckled and wrapped a warm, firm hand around her shoulder and squeezed.
‘You’ll do. You’re a very welcome addition to the team. Thank you for joining us.’
Her heart swelled with pride, and her head was in danger of following suit. ‘Careful, I won’t get through the doorway if you keep on like that,’ she teased, and his hand squeezed again and then lifted away, leaving her with a curious sense of loss.
‘We’ll widen it especially for your head,’ he replied, then glanced at the clock. ‘Right, let’s go and find out what else is in store for us.’
‘Are we changing?’
He shook his head. ‘Only into fresh blues. There’s bound to be something that’s cropped up. We’ll grab a sandwich in the canteen if we have time, but otherwise we’ll be back up here in minutes, I can almost guarantee it.’
He wasn’t wrong about them being needed, but it wasn’t for Theatre, it was on the labour ward for a perfectly normal, perfectly straightforward delivery of a staff baby.
‘Brilliant timing, Meg Maguire’s in labour,’ Molly told them as they arrived on the ward.
‘Any problems?’
She shook her head. ‘No—and I don’t really have a job. Ben’s taken over her labour and pain management, and we’re on the fringes.’
Eve’s curiosity was piqued. ‘Is that the Ben Maguire? The TV guy who did the fly-on-the-wall documentary here in A and E?’ she asked, and Molly nodded.
‘Ex-TV guy. He’s gone back to medicine. He’s working here now in paediatric pain management, and he’s doing all sorts of things to Meg. Shiatsu, massage, acupuncture, TENS, meditation techniques—you name it, they’re doing it, and it seems to be keeping her very calm and focussed. Fantastic labour. She’s progressing really well. She’s in the water at the moment, and it’s all candlelight and soft music and scented oils. Gorgeous. I’m taking notes for my own delivery.’
Eve blinked. ‘Sounds a bit New Age,’ she said doubtfully, but Molly just laughed.
�
�I told you I’d show you a nice, straightforward labour, didn’t I? I think this one might be it. Come see.’
‘Won’t they mind?’
She shook her head. ‘Not if we’re quiet. Hugh’s got to attend anyway—it’s protocol for staff. One more won’t make a difference, but I will check.’
They slipped through the door, and Molly went and spoke softly to them.
They lifted their heads, smiled and beckoned them over to the water pool. ‘Hi, Hugh.’ Meg held out her hand, and Hugh took it and squeezed gently.
‘Hi, yourself. I gather you’re doing really well.’
‘So far. Ben’s being great.’
Ben was kneeling behind her on the outside of the pool, so she lay back against his chest and he could reach her tummy to make slow, gentle circles over her bump with his hands.
‘This is Eve, my new registrar,’ Hugh said introducing her to them. ‘I’m trying to break her in gently and show her something normal. Are you OK with us being here?’
‘Sure,’ she said, then a look of intense concentration came over her face, and she dropped her head back against Ben’s shoulder, turned her face towards him and moaned softly.
‘Oh—it’s getting stronger.’
‘OK. Breathe with me, sweetheart. Nice and light, keep it soft—great, you’re doing fine. Look at me, look at my eyes—that’s good. Imagine you’re riding a wave, going up, up, nearly there—and coming down…’
His voice was soothing and tender, his hands stroking lightly over the baby, and Meg’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she panted rhythmically in time to Ben’s soft chant.
Her breathing slowed again to a more normal rate, and she closed her eyes for a second. Then they flew open and she sought Molly’s hand.
‘Something’s happening. I think I’m weeing.’
‘That’ll be your waters breaking. We’d better get you out now and have a look at you, OK?’
‘I don’t want to get out,’ she protested softly, but Ben encouraged her, helped her to her feet and towelled her gently dry before helping her onto the bed.
‘Let’s get you out of that wet T-shirt,’ Molly suggested, and Ben changed her into a dry one just in time for her next contraction.
‘Ben!’ Meg said frantically, and he gathered her to his chest, rocking her slowly, murmuring soothing words of comfort and encouragement. One hand was on her shoulder, the other circling slowly over the baby, and she leant on him and panted.
‘I can’t do it, Ben! I can’t do this!’ she protested at one point, but he just rocked her and stroked her and she seemed to calm.
‘She’s hotting up,’ Molly said quietly to them, letting the couple deal with it alone, then moving in as the contraction eased to examine Meg.
‘Let’s just check your progress, poppet,’ Molly murmured. A few seconds later she stripped off her gloves and looked around. ‘OK, you’re there, Meg. You can push whenever you’re ready. Where do you want to be? On the floor? On the bed? Kneeling, standing, crouching, lying over a ball?’
‘Ball,’ she said, struggling off the bed and starting to pant again. ‘Oh, damn. Ben! You got me into this—damn well get me out of it!’
He closed his eyes and chuckled. ‘OK, sweetheart. Just lie on here.’
‘I want you to hold me!’ she protested, pushing the ball away desperately. Turning towards him, she hooked her arms round his neck and hung on him.
‘You’ll make your mind up in a minute,’ he teased tenderly, locking his hands together behind her back so she was supported under her armpits. ‘It’s OK, my darling, I’ve got you, you just relax now and do what Molly tells you.’
‘I’ve got to push!’ she screamed, and Molly just rubbed her lower back firmly and told her to go ahead.
‘Deep breath and push down but keep your mouth open—that’s lovely. The baby’s crowning now. The next push should do it. Nice and steady.’
‘I can feel her,’ she said, freeing Ben’s neck with one hand and reaching down to touch her baby’s head with incredulous fingers. ‘Oh, Ben, I can feel her hair!’
The look of wonder on her face brought tears to Eve’s eyes, and it dawned on her that there was no way she’d get through this delivery without crying her eyes out.
And then she found her hand wrapped firmly in a strong, comforting grip, and she gripped back, her concentration intense as she watched Meg give birth to their beautiful, perfect little daughter.
Ben lowered her carefully to the sterile sheets, kneeling behind her to support her as Molly put the baby to Meg’s breast.
‘Hello, little one,’ he said unevenly, his hand lying over the baby in Meg’s arms, and Eve realised they were all in tears.
Ben, Meg, Molly—and even Hugh’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
‘Congratulations,’ he said quietly, then, still holding Eve firmly by the hand, he led her out of the birthing suite and into a nearby office, kicked the door shut and pulled her into his arms.
‘OK now?’ he asked after a minute, and she sniffed and laughed and released her death grip on his ribcage.
‘Fine. Sorry. It’s just…’
‘A miracle. I know. And it doesn’t get any better. It still gets me every time.’
He stood back, taking her shoulders in his hands and looking down at her with an indulgent and curiously tender smile.
‘Are you really all right?’
She nodded, sniffing again and hunting fruitlessly for a tissue.
He handed her one from the box on the desk, gave her another just in case and, looping an arm carelessly round her shoulders, steered her towards the door.
‘Come on, let’s grab a late lunch before all hell breaks loose, because it will, you know. It always does.’
And he opened the door, ushered her down the corridor to the lift, then along to the canteen and bought her lunch.
It occurred to her that this was the third time since the day of the interview, less than a week ago, that he’d fed her in one way or another, and it was about time she did something about it.
‘I owe you a meal,’ she said through a mouthful of sandwich.
‘Why?’
‘Because you keep feeding me.’
‘Self-interest,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I just want to keep you functioning efficiently so I can plan my holiday.’
Was that really a flicker of disappointment she felt? How silly. She didn’t want complications! ‘What will you do with the kids when you go away?’ she asked, casting about for a safe topic. ‘Take them with you?’
He groaned. ‘Don’t. I can’t bear to think about it. Lucy’s only fourteen—I can’t really leave her, but I can’t see Tom wanting to come without Kelly, and I’m damned if I need the two of them canoodling in the wings while Lucy and I sit about like gooseberries and make small talk! So either I leave them at home and goodness knows what’ll happen, or I take the grandparents with me and spend a week with my parents or in-laws. Heads they win, tails I lose. Nightmare.’
Eve laughed without humour, the image too awful to contemplate. No, she definitely didn’t want complications, particularly not complications like that!
‘I wonder if Ben and Meg have any idea what’s in store?’ she murmured, and Hugh groaned.
‘I hope not, for their sake. They might as well have a modicum of emotional peace while the going’s good. Believe me, it won’t last.’
No, it certainly wouldn’t. She tipped her head on one side. ‘You must have been very young when you had Tom.’
‘Seventeen,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s why I freaked out last night. History repeating itself. I just saw my life all over again, and it wasn’t what I wanted for him and Kelly. It wasn’t what I wanted for me and Jo, either, but the morning-after pill wasn’t available when we were kids, and we just got on with it. It helped that we loved each other to bits, and our parents were all fantastic about it and took so much of the pressure off us.’
‘They must have done for you to go to university.’<
br />
‘We both did,’ he told her, to her surprise. ‘Jo finished her A levels just before Tom was born, and she managed to switch her course to a less demanding one, but still in Nottingham, so we were together. Her father got transferred there and we got a house between us. Her mother looked after Tom during the week, and at weekends they went home to their own house in Bury St Edmunds and left us to be parents. And it was great.’
‘But you were so young.’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, but we were happy, and Tom was such a good baby. Then when we were twenty-one she had Lucy, just after the end of her course, and it was easier then for a while, because she was at home looking after the children while I was at college. And then two years after that she got pregnant again and—well, you know the rest.’
How incredibly sad. Eve shook her head slowly. ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to drag it all up again,’ she murmured, feeling guilty, but Hugh just smiled at her and shook his head.
‘Don’t worry, Eve. It was years ago. I’ll never stop being frustrated by the waste of her life, but I’ve let her go now. I’m just left dealing with the aftermath of our teenage hormones, and that gets more complicated the older they get.’
His smile was wry, and she smiled back with feeling.
‘So it would seem. I have to say you’re welcome to family life—much too messy for me.’
‘Tell me about it,’ he said with a bleak chuckle. ‘More tea?’
But their patients had other ideas. His bleep went, followed rapidly by hers, and while he went up to the ward to see one of their post-op patients, she went to A and E to assess Mrs Ryan, a pregnant woman who’d been involved in a low-speed collision outside her son’s playgroup.
Her toddler was wriggling and squirming in a nurse’s arms, refusing to be entertained or distracted by toys. After checking her over thoroughly, Eve could find no obstetric reason to detain Mrs Ryan, who was anxious to go.
‘Just promise you’ll come straight back in if you have the slightest concern,’ Eve said, doubt nagging at the back of her mind even though the portable ultrasound had picked up nothing and Mrs Ryan’s obs were all normal. Any pain, bleeding, leaking fluid, a show—anything that might indicate you’re starting your labour early or that something’s wrong. But hopefully you’ll be fine and you’ll continue to term without any problems.’
Maternal Instinct Page 6
